


To Himling: Part Nine

by vetiverite



Series: To Himling [9]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Brain Injury, Brothers, Coma, Durin Family, Durin Family Angst, Durin Family Feels, Durincest, Dwarf Culture & Customs, Dwarven Ones | Soulmates, Dwarven Politics, Dysfunctional Family, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Espionage, Gentle Sex, Ghost Thorin, Ghost Thrain, Hurt/Comfort, Husbands, Intrigue, M/M, Post-Battle of Five Armies, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Seizures, Sibling Incest, Sibling Love, Slow Burn, Soulmates, Supernatural Elements, Tauriel? Who's Tauriel?, tropes tropes tropes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-28
Updated: 2019-08-28
Packaged: 2020-08-13 07:31:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20170510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vetiverite/pseuds/vetiverite
Summary: As a scheme for freedom takes shape, an unanticipated crisis pushes the brothers' love to the cliff's edge. Will they fall, or fly?





	1. Storytelling

At dawn Fenja woke stiff-necked by the ashes. Wincing and hissing, she worked her way upright and stood massaging the small of her back with both gnarled hands. 

Fresh bread was the first order of business; she had not lied to Thorin about that. Flour, salt, milk, nigella seeds… She peeked in the crock housing the sourdough mother and sucked her teeth in irritation at the scrapings left in the molasses jar. Clearly she’d have to keep a closer eye on Kíli. 

Bleary-eyed Haya came in from the yard with an armful of stove kindling. _Ach, I had strange dreams all the night—!_

_You don’t say,_ replied Fenja. 

Dís lingered in bed to ponder Thorin’s instructions— or so she told herself within her cocoon of blankets. Whatever oath she’d taken to resolve his earthly business, at this hour she felt no need just yet to subject her warm feet to a cold flagstone floor. 

That morning it was Kíli whose prayers ended with a peaceful sigh while Fíli offered up sacrificial tears. Afterward they made their bed and lay nested together in silence. 

Fíli felt exhausted but light as air. For years he'd doled out his tears one at a time, never knowing how good it felt to cry them all at once. Kíli could have told him. Kíli knew the awful stealth of sadness; he understood its ways. That morning he held Fíli with particular tenderness, for once the wiser and stronger one. 

By the time they appeared downstairs – tired but tranquil-eyed – Dís had been staring into the kitchen fire for an hour. She looked her sons over and smiled but said nothing. Neither did they. 

Fenja had already cut and buttered the bread and poured the cider. It amused her no end to serve Dís and her sons the exact same meal she had served Thorin in the dark of night. She herded the boys to the table, pointedly plunked the empty molasses jar down in front of Kíli, and said, _Start without me._

So commenced breakfast. 

Twice Dís cleared her throat to speak, then sipped her cider instead. 

Fíli folded a slice of bread butter-side inward, changed his mind, and peeled it apart again. 

Kíli stared morosely into the depths of the empty molasses jar. 

Fenja reentered, looking vastly pleased with herself. She leaned over Fíli to nudge aside the bread plate and neatly dropped the map of Himling onto the center of the table. 

Out of sight under the table, Fíli placed a cautionary foot on top of Kíli’s. 

Dís gasped and flattened her hands upon the table to still their tremor. _Thorin,_ she thought. 

_For heaven’s sake, talk or eat,_ cracked Fenja. She patted Fíli’s shoulder so he would know all was truly well. 

Dís turned guilty eyes to Kíli, the only one who knew nothing at all. _It was meant to be a surprise, my love,_ she pled. _Don’t be angry._ Obviously Kíli was not; he leaned forward, wide-eyed as a child anticipating a brand new fireside saga. So she began. 

_When you were both small, you cried for Thorin whenever he went away. Do you remember that?_

_I do,_ whispered Fíli. That was when he’d learned to do his weeping alone. At that moment it seemed very, very long ago. 

His mother tapped the frame’s rock crystal face. _This is where he went, sometimes._

_We know. That's our island,_ Kíli blurted. 

Your _island?_

_And our mm-map. From our room. Fenja, why did—?_

_Ssh, _said Fíli. _Ssh, Kíli. Let Mother speak. Tell us about Uncle— please, Mother._

Dís cleared her head with a little shake and tried to find her place again. _What you need to understand is that our father was... well, he was not warm toward us. Especially not to Thorin. Oh, he made his expectations known, to be sure. He held us all to high standards, but his Heir in particular. If you thought Thorin was overly strict with you, Fíli—_

_No._ Her firstborn's response was immediate and loyal. _No. He was just right._

_He was www-WONDERFUL,_ Kíli added. 

_I'm glad. It means he learned something after all. _Dís drained the last of her cider. _He did try so hard, didn't he?_ she asked Fenja, who had moved to refill her cup. _But one needs an ally. I had Fenja, but Thorin had only our brother Frerin._

At the mention of Frerin, Fíli’s heart swelled almost to the point of pain. He instantly felt Kíli's warm palm between his shoulderblades, radiating solidarity. 

_I don't have to tell you how close they were, _Dís continued. _Frerin—_

_Frerin didn't give a straw what Thráin thought!_ proclaimed Fenja with authority. 

_And whenever our father went too far, Thorin and Frerin went to Himling. They would steal a skiff..._

Kíli's hand pressed a little harder, each fingertip digging slightly into Fíli's back. 

_But all that stopped when the war came. Thráin didn't care that Thorin and Frerin were too young for battle; he insisted they fight. And when Frerin was killed, Thorin grieved him very, very hard—_

_Thank Mahal above for the forge,_ Fenja declared. _Without his work, he might even have harmed himself._ Her face mirrored Dís’; they had borne the bitterness of those terrible days together. 

_But then._ Dís reached for Fíli’s hand. _You boys were born, and his joy returned. In you he saw Frerin and himself— five years apart; light and dark; close as two hairs on a head._

Kíli beamed and shifted position on the bench. He loved family stories that led up to himself and Fíli. Now would come the good part! 

_Before your father died, _Dís told them, _he had an ill premonition. He asked Thorin to help me raise you should anything befall him. Your uncle of course agreed, but he was so afraid of falling short. Not everyone is born knowing how to love._

_But he_ did _love us,_ Fíli protested. _He still does!_

_Of course he does, my darling. And that’s why I want to talk to you about Himling._ Dís had taken the frame in her hands and begun to spin it on the tabletop. _He and Frerin always told me how beautiful and lonely it was, and how sad that no one wanted it—_

_WE wanted it; Fíli and me! _Kíli could hardly contain himself. Finally they had a piece of their own to add to this story! He looked around proudly, biting his lip. 

_And so did Thorin, for you!_ Now Dís spun the map to face her sons. She found the star-shaped mark and laid a fingertip next to it. _You see that? That’s where he and Frerin raised a stone._ She leaned across the table, her gaze sharp as elfshot, and enunciated each word so that her sons would receive them rightly. _They claimed the island for Durin's heirs. Do you know why I tell you this?_

_Yes,_ replied Fíli, low but resolute. _We will need somewhere to go when we refuse the throne._

In the silence that followed, different elements of Fíli’s answer sank deep. Dís noted that he said _when_ rather than _if_. Kíli noted that he said _we_ rather than _I_. Fenja simply took in the word _refuse_— and liked it. Let others think the choice cowardly; would any of them possess the balls to make it in Fíli’s place? 

_Himling belongs to you,_ Dís pronounced. _You will both be safe there, if Tharkûn and I can manage it._

Fíli was silent. For such reactions, strangers called him detached at best, apathetic at worst. But those close to him knew that he was always mulling, and they would not find this response unusual. When he chose to use it, Fíli had as much skill in speaking with his body as Dís did with her eyes. Happiness now illuminated him head to foot much as sea-lightning surrounds a ship; he didn't need to say a thing. 

But Kíli's roiling mind swallowed Dís' news the way that a fire devours a stick pitched into its heart, burning through it fast and sending up cinders. One caught and flared, turning his joy to ash. He darted a swift look of consternation at Fíli. _But, but ww-we, me and Fíli, we saw a, a lll-light on Him... Himling. Someone is already there—_

Before Dís could react, Fíli twisted around and took Kíli’s agitated hands in his own. 

_‘Ibinê,_ he said, peering deep into his brother’s eyes. Then he made a hand-sign only he and Kíli would know— one from long ago, when their uncle’s tread upon the stair was their cue to hide and wait, fighting laughter… 

The corners of Kíli’s mouth twitched, lifted. As Dís and Fenja looked on, Fíli smiled, leaned forward, and placed a gentle kiss on those lips.


	2. Moon of the Gold Mountain

Dís sent nine trustworthy Khazâd across the water at dawn, armed with a hand-drawn copy of Thorin’s map. They would find the land-taking stone and survey the island_. Then,_ she told Fíli and Kíli, _we can prepare for spring._

Fíli wrote to Elder Ninur a scribbled confession of his plans and wishes. His imagination eagerly suggested possible outcomes – rage, censure, exposure, betrayal – but Ninur surprised him with a swift offer of aid. 

_If I may in any way be of service to you, I shall be glad,_ he wrote. 

> _As royal tutor and counselor, I would be compelled by the very nature of my title to force you onto a road you have no wish to walk. As your friend, I am under no such obligation. I wish to see you and your brother happy, which is something only a friend can say._

> _I am well acquainted with my colleagues’ thoughts concerning the succession. I will parley with them on your behalf and quieten those who dispute your choice. Some may call this a dereliction of my duty, but I am old, and before I die I would like to see at least one Durin get what he wants._

> _And so I come now to Thorinutumnu._

_You see?_ Dís gave Fíli’s elbow a shake. _Help is coming, Treasure._

Settled plans made for settled minds, at least for Dís and Fíli. But once Kíli trained his archer’s eye on Himling, all other considerations faded. To his hectic mind, spring would at once come all too soon and not soon enough. Ideas, questions, and plans tumbled through his thoughts so rapidly that he asked for a little book in which to scribble them down. 

How does one build a fire on a tinderless island? And where? In wobbly runes, Kíli wrote down _PEAT _and _CHARCOAL _and _CHIMNEY_, which led to _FORGE _and _ORE _and _FURNACE_. Were there wildflowers on Himling? Could it support honeybees? _SEEDS. SKEPS. WINTER. ASK BEORN. _Thoughts of honey led him to thoughts of food in general. What would he and Fíli eat? How would they catch or cultivate it; how might it be preserved and stored? _PANTRY. STOVE. BREAD. ASK FENJA._

Like a poltergeist, Kíli ransacked Thorin’s library— pulling down volumes and leaving them strewn about or stacked high in haphazard towers. Quiet Fíli drifted in his wake, straightening, reshelving, and fielding as best he could his brother’s scattershot questions. 

_Uncle told M-mother there were fish to catch, but when I www...went to read about them, I found something about mussels._ Kíli wavered under an armful of books, the topmost volume splayed open beneath his chin. _It says here that Men farm them to eat. What’s a mussel, Fíli? Is, is it a sea vegetable?_

_I’m not sure, _confessed Fíli. _We’ll have to ask Mother._

Mother did not know, but Fenja did; her palate had traveled wide. _Mussels are like pearlmakers, but long and sleek,_ she explained. _You find hordes of them clinging to rocks in the tide— but they favor the warmer water of the south. Himling will likely have cockles in pebbly shallows. Maybe even longnecks, if there’s a mudflat._

These words meant nothing to Kíli, but being unfamiliar, they whet his curiosity. _Hhh-how do you farm them?_ he wanted to know. _How do you harvest and eat them? If the isle doesn’t have any, can we live www...without them?_

_I think you’re going to learn,_ said Fenja.

___________________ 

Dajnûna, lovely and elusive, wandered through Kíli’s thoughts. It grieved him to think of leaving her behind, but the Lady of the Earth had made the forest for her kind, and it was not for a lowly Khuzd to countermand her. On Himling there were no trees, and so no bark nor lichen to eat, nor any shady paths to ramble. And there were no other deer, which meant no stags. 

In love himself, Kíli would not have his Dajnûna go without a mate. So that was that.


	3. Plans

One night – right in the middle of kissing his way across the landscape of Fíli's abdomen – Kíli murmured, _I’m going to miss this bed when we go._

It took Fíli several seconds to muster his powers of speech. 

_...why wouldn’t we bring it with us?_

Kíli glanced up from his brother’s flank; he was looking for a likely spot to nip. He did not answer, but reached for Fíli's hand. He closed his teeth lightly on his brother’s wrist, his forearm, then just above his elbow, watching his prey all the while. 

Indulgent Fíli, eyes half-lidded, smiled at this mischief. _So?_

The next bite – dealt to his bicep – hurt. As always, the pain made Fíli’s breath catch and back arch. He groaned at the press and slide of Kíli’s palm over his belly, down and down, then the firm grasp of fingers around the root of his stiffening cock. 

_So,_ Kíli whispered, glad and grateful. To think that not so long ago there was such sadness everywhere, and now how good everything felt, how full-hearted and free! To think he could touch Mim like this and fear nothing! 

Sitting astride his brother’s thighs, he spread his hands out over the dense, dark blond hair that covered Fíli’s broad torso—stroking, tracing, dipping into the deep, thickly furred pectoral hollow over his heart. With each pass, Fíli filled and emptied his lungs, groaning softly: _Oh. Oh._ It made him weak to hear Kíli matching little moans in tempo to his own_: Oh. Oh._

_There must be an echo in this room…_ he teased. 

_Ssshh,_ replied Kíli, then very deliberately brushed the pads of his work-calloused thumbs over Fíli’s nipples. The sensation caused Fíli to arch upward with a gasp. Emboldened, Kíli very gently pinched those erect and sensitive buds of flesh— and Fíli’s pelvis bucked sharply. 

_I see,_ Kíli grinned. 

Shifting around, he parted Fíli's legs and began to blaze a trail with his lips along the length of his brother’s inner thigh. When he reached the knee he reversed course, retracing the path with his tongue. From somewhere above came Fíli's shaky voice: _Zanid... why wouldn't we bring the bed...?_

_We don’t know yet where or how we’ll live._ Kíli nuzzled Fíli’s groin, relishing its heat, its animalic scent. _There’s nnn...no point in bringing furniture if we have nowhere to put it. We have to have a house first, Mim._

Surprised, Fíli propped himself up on his elbows. _You’re thinking about a_ house? _Right _now? 

_No,_ replied Kíli, black eyes sparkling. _I told you. Right now, I’m thinking about a bed. Lie back._

Fíli obeyed, but now his brother’s fixation had leapt to him, and he caught himself thinking not of a house, not of a bed, but of Himling. 

He, too, had added notes to Kíli’s little book, but his headings – _WALLS, DEFENSES, LOOKOUT, ARMORY_ – spoke of anxieties at odds with his brother’s happy schemes. While he regarded Himling as a place to hide, Kíli thought of it as a place to build a life, with food and forges and bees and beds. Their destination being the same, so must their strivings meet or come to nothing. Whatever bed they occupied – be it this one or blankets on hard ground – they must make it together. 

_Zanid, _Fíli said. _You’re so far ahead of me._

His wondering tone was not meant to insult. Fíli had always known Kíli to be clever in his own fashion. But this time, _naddith_ rather than _nadad _might take the lead— and that made a startling difference. 

The _naddith_ in question rested his cheek against Fíli’s hipbone and looked at him affectionately. _I knew THAT,_ he whispered. Then he raised himself up and swallowed Fíli down, and there was no more talk.


	4. Thunderclap

One a quiet morning at the last quarter of the moon, Dís and her sons stood watching Fenja demonstrate the making of flatbread when the sound of rapid, heavy bootsteps brought weapons to every hand. Belt axes, boot knives, and (in Kíli's case) an ivory-handled rocker blade for cutting rolled dough were all brandished. Ever practical, Fenja flicked the bread off the griddle before it scorched. 

The kitchen door flew open to reveal Bhurin, breathless and glowering. _You'll want to hear this,_ he rasped. 

A strange assembly awaited them on the practice ground. Ori and Nori, filthy from hard travel; a dozen grim-faced ironsmiths, Kíli’s young friends among them; Simi the forgemaster, burn-scarred forearms folded across his massive chest. 

_What's the meaning of this, khazâd?_ barked Dís, striding ahead of her sons. In such moments, she was never more clearly a Durin. _What is happening here?_

_People coming,_ piped a greatly dismayed Ori. _Moving northward._

Nori's voice was hoarse from dust. _We spotted their banners while crossing the Lhûn—_

_They mean to come here,_ Ori cut in. _To Thorinutumnu._

Kíli took his mother’s hand. 

_How do you know this?_ Dís demanded. 

_We followed them; we watched and listened, and when we were sure—_

From the ironsmiths’ company rose a collective growl, a dangerous sound to any familiar with the volatility of Khazâd. Dís locked panicky eyes with Fíli; an odd surge of calm wafted over him like cool air across heated skin. He edged his shoulder between his brother and Bhurin. 

_Why are these men here?_ he asked. _Who gathered them?_

_I did. Or rather, I went to the forgemaster and HE did._ At a loss, Nori shrugged. 

_They came wanting weapons,_ Bhurin added. _They assumed you’d need protection._

Another growl, louder now. Fíli swiftly turned to quell it. _Oi, khazâd! _His good-natured voice rang across the yard. _Settle down! Let’s talk this through!_

His untroubled tone had its effect: Dís watched the smiths’ hackles lower and felt her own follow suit. The sense of emergency was fading; curiosity took its place. 

_You said you saw these people crossing the Lhûn?_ Fíli prompted Nori. 

_We more than saw; we crossed with them!_ Nori hooted. _We’d come out from the Shire; they’d come up from south, and there in the middle we met. We slipped in among them nice and quiet— but they certainly weren’t keeping their voices low! ‘Thorin this’, ‘the Heir that’… we’re no fools, Ori and I. We totted it all up and hightailed it here._

Fíli scrutinized his friend closely, reading uncertainty behind the bluster. _Who are they?_

_Old ones, high mucky-mucks of some sort, riding with servants, some of whom..._ Nori stepped closer. _They're strange. They're dressed like the servants, but they neither fetch, carry, nor wait. They stand and watch; nothing more. If they’re not bodyguards, I’ll wed the Witch of Lórien._

_You said they had banners. What did they look like; what colors were they? Think, Nori. _Fíli's face betrayed no tension, but his voice vibrated with urgency. 

He needn't have worried. A seasoned spy, Nori had a snare for a memory. _Grey on black. Sky blue on black. White on scarlet. Deep blue on grey. Black on gold._

_Grey, Blue, Red, Misty, Lonely... _Fíli thought. _There's a mountain missing._ Out loud he remarked, _But no rust on silver._

_No._

Dís was beginning to understand. _And no white, pure white?_

_No._

Elders, then, but not all of them. Ninur was absent from the party, as were the Iron Hills’ two delegates. Fíli and his mother locked eyes in thoughtful silence; uncomprehending and alone, Kíli clenched his teeth to keep from shouting. 

Fíli turned to Ori. _How many travelers all together?_

_Fifty, perhaps sixty._

_How are they coming? When will they arrive, do you reckon?_

Ori searched the clouds overhead for an answer. _Well… they're coming by way of the valley. They’ll have to stop often and camp overnight. Even so, they're traveling fast; we had to race to stay ahead of them. A week from now? _Ori consulted his brother with his eyes, and Nori nodded. 

_Well then._ Fíli spoke firmly and steadily, looking around him with unexpected authority. _We have time, so let’s all be calm. These people didn’t warn us they were coming, but I don’t think they mean us harm. Why would they? They’re Khazâd. If they are our elders, we must welcome them and see what they want._ He turned to Bhurin_. If they're taking the valley, they’ll have to cross at the pass._

_Sentries?_

_Sentries. Guides._ Fíli glanced at Nori. _Spies._

Nori’s eyes glinted like steel. _I’m up for some more fun._

Fíli grinned, then turned to the forgemaster. His voice conveyed deep respect. _There's no need for fires to burn low or men to lose a day’s work. I’ll send word— or I'll bring it myself when I come to the forge tomorrow. I don't mean to lose work, either._

_There's always plenty of it waiting. You heard him, fellows!_ Simi bellowed. And with that, he and his craftsmen began to stream toward the gate, raising their hammers in farewell.


	5. Mutiny

Fíli turned to find his kinfolk in a state of stupefied awe. _My goodness,_ Dís breathed. She did not sound at all dissatisfied; in fact she and Fenja looked upon him with fresh approval. Nori pounded him on the back, crowing, _Well, hail, Your Majesty! _while Ori beamed and clasped his hands. 

Only Kíli, tall and tense, kept silent. 

Cheeks pink, Fíli studied the flagstones, chewing the inside of his lip. Presently, to Dís: _The rooms in the northwest cavern are empty. Lodgings will be chilly and tight but better than nothing. The elders know how we live. They can’t expect luxury where there’s none to give. After all, we're Thorinutumnu, not Khazâd-dûm._ To Fenja: _What can we feed them?_

_Scraps._

_Well, we’ll be eating the same, so they can’t complain. Let’s hope they don't mean to stay long._

As the others returned to the stronghold, Fíli turned to Kíli with a rueful shrug. He had not noticed the strange, sidelong look his brother had been giving him; now it threw him slightly off-balance atop his temporary pedestal. 

_What do you make of all this, Zanid?_ he inquired. 

_Nothing, Nadad._

Not Mim, not Fílimê: _Nadad_. Elder brother. 

_Did you want to go with Nori and Bhurin? _Fíli tried again. 

_If Nadad wishes it._

Fíli chuckled uneasily. _Listen to you— so formal! You’re not going to call me ‘Your Majesty’, too, are you?_

Mild brotherly scoffing he might have expected, or even a mocking laugh, but nothing prepared him for the frost that overtook his _naddith’s_ eyes. 

_Yyou, yyy...you’re not my King._ And with that Kíli lurched away— leaving Fíli to stand alone, ruler of precisely nothing.


	6. Bolt of Joy

The little cave in the cliff face had been Fíli’s best hiding place since stormy adolescence. Of course, it wasn’t all that secret; the one he hid from now could find it in the dark. And maybe Fíli wanted to be found— though he’d rather bite an iron bolt than admit as much. 

To reach the cave, Fíli had to traverse the diamond beach. Here, his and Kíli's footsteps still pitted the sand; there, he’d woken to Kíli touching his hair… For a long time he sat at the cave’s lip to watch the heaving glass-green surf. A thresher lifted its tailfin like a war banner and dove, resurfacing amid a frantic scatter of flying fish. Overhead, a gannet surveyed the melee with ill-hidden interest. Abruptly she wheeled away— what foe did she spy from so far above? If only he had her sight, Fíli would know how to navigate this danger-strewn ground. 

Dís had sent him away for the afternoon with a gentle-but-firm order to gather himself. In the coming weeks, strangers would fill every corner of Thorinutumnu, leaving few possibilities for quiet. She hoped that the rush of waves below would pacify her son's turbulent mind. But it was not to be. 

In his left hand Fíli held his sand diamond, retrieved from its hiding place to provide anchorage of a sort. His fingers twirled it end over end to the rhythm of a chorus as maddening as the tick of a clock: _You’re not my King. You’re not my King._

Was it his fault that he knew what to do? The situation required calm heads and a plan that did not involve smashing others’. Thorin would have approved. Mother, Bhurin, Simi – people much older and more experienced than him! – _did_ approve. Even world-weary Fenja, who had seen it all, was pleased. Why not Kíli? 

_You’re not my King. You’re not my King._

_I don’t want to BE your King,_ Fíli thought, inwardly rehearsing one of the haughty things he’d say if an opening presented itself. _I don’t want to be anyone’s King at all. Since you know this, why do you taunt me with it? Why hurt me with what already hurts?_

_(And who understands what hurts me more than you?)_

As if summoned by this thought, shuffling footsteps now came along the ledge. Fíli squeezed his eyes shut in vexation _(I want to be alone! Can I not simply be left alone?)_ but already a shadow fell across the mouth of the alcove. A commotion of movement next to him; warm solidity filling sad empty space. 

A deep, soft, probing voice: _Fílimê._

In spite of himself he turned his head toward the sound, obedient to a pull more powerful and real than any that distant Himling could exert. The brothers’ brows touched; Fíli’s well-drilled army of sharp-edged words deserted him. 

_I'm sorry, _Kíli whispered. _I’m sorry._

Fíli reached to touch his brother’s crown in forgiveness, but Kíli intercepted his blessing hand. Turning it over, he placed his closed fist in it and then opened his fingers, releasing something warm and smooth into Fíli’s cupped palm. 

A sand diamond, glowing opalescent in the blue-pink haze of sunset. 

_Maralmizu._

The word, the one word, the beginning without end, so quiet that any other might have missed it. But the beloved hears what no one else can, and the word struck Fíli like a firebolt. Every fiber, every atom within him swelled, overflowed, dissolved in gladness. He knew then that what all the wisdom-keepers say is true and incontrovertible: the first reaction is in fact the reply. 

He burst out laughing. 

For the shortest-lived of all dark moments, it almost turned to disaster. Kíli shrank back, head lowered in shame. A rebuff to his given word, whether purposeful or rash, would be final. But Fíli cried, _No, Kílimê, look, look!_ and opened his other hand. There lay the twin of Kíli’s own promise, glistening and flawless— proof that as one thought and felt, so did the other. 

All their long lives until the day they died - both within an hour, but together and happy instead of separate and lonely – they would remember this moment as a line thrown across a divide, from one to the other, rescuing both. Between them it stretched and took on the shape of a future. 

_Maralmizu ya, _Fíli said, emphasizing every syllable with equal intensity, for no such words come to the mind or lips except by a route of long deliberation. For months he and Kíli had been circling a target yet always evading its center. How satisfying now to hit it in one word! _Maralmizu,_ he repeated. Then: _Oh, my love, why do you cry?_

_Be-because I’m still sorry!_ But Kíli was laughing as he said it, his elation as free as his tears. 

_Sorry that you are mine, or that I'm yours? Either way, it’s too late—_

_You know what I mean. I was unkind to you._

_Then be kind to me now._ Fíli placed his diamond into Kíli's palm and leaned forward to claim his treasure. 

This kiss was ocean-deep, a sweet salt wave closing over their heads. In its wake, Fíli’s eyes remained closed in bliss. 

_Zanid,_ he breathed. _We had better put our gifts in a safe place before we keep going._

Once they had secured the diamonds in his belt pouch, Fíli lay back on the smooth, dusty cave floor, tugging his brother down on top of him. In that small space, it took some ingenuity to bring their bodies flush. 

Kíli insinuated his forearm under his _nadad’s_ head to cushion it from the hard stone. With his free hand, he stroked his brother's cheek and dragged the pad of his thumb lightly over his parted lips. His warm breath softly fanned out over Fíli's brow_. Is it uncomfortable for you?_

_No. I like you holding me down._ Fíli pressed his loins upward to show off the proof, and Kíli gratefully pressed back. 

Layers of clothing impeded their hunger; they pulled them haphazardly aside, intolerant of even the flimsiest barrier between them. Fíli wrapped his legs around Kíli's, drawing their bodies snug together to generate that exquisite friction both longed for. 

For a time they moved together in sacred silence, riding swells of pleasure towards a far-off shore. 

_I’m not your King, _whispered Fíli, suddenly and with urgency. 

_...Mim..._

_No, listen. I will never be your King; you are mine._

It was his proclamation, both of surrender and possession. _You are mine._ My King. _You are mine_. I claim you. 

_Yes,_ gasped Kíli, cradling his brother's head in both hands as they journeyed towards oblivion. 

_Close._

_Yes._

_So close, oh love._

_Come together, Mim..._

_Yes, oh, my one, yes..._

_Maralmizu._

In one powerful surge the word washed them both ashore.


	7. Welded

_When you took charge of the people before… I wwwa-was frightened._

They lay enmeshed in the deepening dusk, voices low beneath the pulsing of the tide. 

_Not of me?_

_Noooo… of, of what you could be. You were so good at it, yasthûnê._

My husband. 

At the sound of his new name, Fíli melted against Kíli’s body with a sigh of profound contentment. 

Kíli, too, felt deeply satisfied. He loved holding Fíli, loved the tight-coiled strength evident even at rest, the smallness belying hidden might and will. He could wrap himself around Fíli, hold him fast, pin him down, yet never lose sight of who guided who. Even in surrender, Fíli remained _nadad,_ and Kíli felt very safe. 

Even so, his mind continued to map out the many things that needed to be said. 

When he is small, a _naddith_ enjoys many unearned indulgences. Even when he is in the wrong, he may sulk or say nothing and still receive absolution. But now they were promised, welded together for always, and Kíli knew he must own up to his behavior. It would not be easy. He would most likely stumble, and he hoped his mate would be generous enough to catch him. 

_I know it sounds s-stupid—_

_No,_ yooouuu’re _stupid!_ Fíli sang, hoping their old childhood retort would dissolve the tension. It worked; Kíli giggled, then flicked his tongue against Fíli’s ear to make him jump. He wasn’t quite finished with serious talk, but his brother’s jest gave him courage. They were still Little and Big, fitting together. 

_I saw the way you ordered everyone, and, and… I thought if you ever did want to rrr...rule our people—_

_I don’t._

_I know. Mmm… Mother talked to me. I mean, I went and talked to her._ Kíli hid his hot face against his brother’s nape. _I tol…told her the awful thing I said to you._

_What did she think?_

_That I shouldn't have said it, b-because you don't want to be King and you don’t, you don’t ww-want… to, to go to Erebor._ Kíli’s speech labored under the weight of his emotions. _And that, that you needed me to help you, be-because you love me and www...want to stay with me always._

_And what was your thought when you heard this?_

Very, very soft: _To bring my diamond to you._

Laboring against the dearth of space, Fíli turned within the ring of Kíli's arms. His voice, to Kíli’s surprise, quivered with guilt. _What Mother told you is what I told Mother. About all of it— Erebor; being King; you. You most especially. I should have said it all to you first._

_Fílimê._

_I should have._ The darkness hid Fíli’s wet eyes. _I could have. I was stupid._

Kíli thought of returning the joke _(no,_ y-you’re _stupid!)_ but Fíli’s self-blame felt unbearable to him, a long-embedded thorn he longed to remove. He tightened his embrace to encourage them both. 

_If you want to know a stupid p… person, listen to this,_ he rasped in Fíli’s ear. _I said what I said because I was jealous. I wanted you to be MY King, the ruler of ME, just mmm…me. No one else’s but mine be-because I lll…_

Unable to complete the word, he took Fíli’s head in his hands and showed him. The kiss was deep and rough and vehement, and when it broke off, Kíli had found his speech again. His lips moved against Fíli’s throat, brushing the pulse that jumped beneath the angle of his promised one’s jaw. _Love you. That’s what I should have said instead of what I did._

_Yasthûnê,_ whispered Fíli. He felt giddy, free. What had seemed impossible only an hour ago now seemed inevitable. 

A calm like the passing of a squall settled over them. The world outside might well have vanished with the sunset. 

_Years ago I told Ori that I arrived too soon and had to wait for you._ All tension had left Fíli; the truth came quietly and without regret. _You brought our soul with you when you were born. Until then I was empty. You filled me; that’s why I remember nothing before you and everything after you._

Kíli spoke with prayerful solemnity, even closing his eyes: _Mahal made me for you._

_I tried to make Ori see that, but he just kept saying, _What about when you get married? _I thought..._ Fíli let out a rueful laugh, turning the past over in his mind. _I thought he meant you and me, to each other. So I said,_ But we already are. 

_And then?_

_Well… you know Ori; he’d rather fall into a ravine headfirst than be cruel. He didn’t say anything, but for a time he found reasons to stay away. I know he felt confused, but what else could I have told him?_ Fíli sighed. _I’ve loved you for so long, Zanid. Even so young, I knew._

_When I was little,_ confided Kíli in a whisper, _I thought we were the same person. I im-imagined you heard every thought in my head. There was nothing to hide from you. I was so hhhh... happy!_ The word, borne to Fíli on a sweet breath, caressed his skin and softened the words to follow. _And when I found out we were ss-separate— when you started going off with Uncle and lll...laughing at jokes I didn’t understand—_

_I know, sweet love. I’m sorry for all of it._

_No. I had to learn. And anyway, I ww-wasn’t lost for long. Didn’t you come back for me?_ The turbulence within Kíli began to dissolve into joy. _Even before I was born, you were _nadad_, making sure it was safe ahead, marking the way so I could follow. And now look._ He pushed himself up, tugged at Fíli, threw both arms around him the instant he sat upright. _What will Ori say to THIS?_

Fíli gave a wakening start. _Ai, Mahal— Kílimê! Ori is home with Mother! Does she even know where we are?_

_Yes; I told her. I sh-showed her my diamond, too._

_Ai—!_ Fíli scrambled to find his belt pouch in the dark. His consternation filled the alcove, but Kíli remained unshakably serene. 

_She wasn’t angry. She said it should be so, for us— and it is. It’s all_ right, _love,_ Kíli laughed. _She waits to welcome us... in a little while... _So saying, he slowly pulled the belt pouch from Fíli’s hands and bent to nuzzle the curve of his neck. 

Fíli let his shoulders relax. He, too, felt the new obligations of being promised, welded together for always, one of which was to believe and to trust in his partner as well as in himself. It would not be easy. He would most likely stumble, and he hoped his mate would be generous enough to catch him... 

_All right, yasthûnê,_ he relinquished, reaching up to weave his fingers into his betrothed's hair. _Once more and then home._

He had to admit, next to _husband_, even _home_ sounded brand new.


End file.
